Page 15 of A Christmas Spark
The kitten leapt up, paws sinking into the leg of George’s jeans as it began to try to scale his leg, bell jingling on its collar all the while. George scowled down at the tiny, fluffy thing, but didn’t try to dislodge it. Its determination was somewhat impressive, he thought, even if it was currently a fraction away from burying its claws in his leg too.
“So that’s what you were getting all that weird stuff for at the general store,” he mused. “What’s with the bell on the collar?”
Mabel chuckled, reaching out to pry the kitten off of George’s pant leg and depositing it once again in her lap. The kitten immediately jumped down and shot across the store, disappearing beneath the Christmas tree as the collar jingled merrily.
“I thought it might help with finding her,” Mabel said tiredly. “She’s disappeared into nooks and crannies of the store today that I didn’t even know a cat could fit into. I would never have known where she’d gone if not for the bell.”
“She’s clearly trouble,” George said with a dry chuckle, as he turned to see the kitten on her back under the Christmas tree, batting at a low-hanging ornament. “You should find her a permanent home sooner rather than later. She’s going to wear you out.”
Mabel started to respond, only to be interrupted by a large yawn. “You’re probably right,” she admitted, covering her mouth. “I haven’t been this tired in ages. Probably too old to have a little thing like that running around.”
George eyed her, momentarily disarmed by how endearing she looked in that moment. He never saw her in any state other than perfectly, confidently put together, in command at all times and always sharp as a tack, with that streak of mischief that seemed reserved mainly for him. Now she was sitting there with her hair messy from sleep, her cheeks flushed and her eyes a bit groggy, yawning as she sat in the velvet chair. She looked adorable, frankly, and he forced the thought away as soon as it popped into his head. This was Mabel, after all. Not the person he should be entertaining thoughts like that about, unless he wanted to prove the whole town right about them.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Mabel asked, running her hand through her mop of curls again. It only served to make her hair stick out in a few different directions, which was still just as endearing. “Not like you to pop by the toy store.”
“I was walking by.” George shrugged. “On my way to the diner. Thought I’d treat myself to a spot of lunch out for a change. I saw you sleeping on the job and was… well, I was a little worried about you,” he admitted. “Thought I’d come in and make sure you were alright. You left the door unlocked, by the way,” he added.
“Clearly,” Mabel grumped, but there was a small smile on her face. “That was too thoughtful of you,” she added, her tone shifting to teasing as she regarded him from her spot on Santa’s chair. “I’m surprised you didn’t take advantage of it. It would have been the perfect moment to prank me.”
George snorted. “I have no desire to prank you, Mabel,” he said flatly, glancing down at his watch. “Just glad you’re alright. If I don’t get a move on, I’m going to miss out on lunch.”
“Wouldn’t want to keep you from that.” Mabel stood, waving him off. “Enjoy.”
“I will.” He glanced at her once more. “You work on finding a permanent home for that pesky little kitten, alright?”
“Definitely,” Mabel assured him. “See you around, George.”
“See you around.” He gave her a quick smile and turned, heading back out into the chilly afternoon.
CHAPTER TEN
The credits ofRudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeerscrolled across the television screen, the faint glow adding to the twinkling light of the Christmas tree in the otherwise darkened living room. Imogen leaned back against the cushions of her well-worn sofa, glancing down to see if Katie was still awake. She was, nestled against her mother’s shoulder, but Imogen could see that her eyes were getting heavy.
“One more movie,” Katie yawned, and Imogen laughed, a contented smile on her lips as she leaned down to press a quick kiss against her daughter’s hair.
“I think that might be enough Christmas magic for one night,” Imogen said, gently dislodging her arm so that she could sit up and set her empty hot cocoa mug down on the coffee table. The remnants of their movie night were scattered across it—a half-empty bowl of popcorn dusted with seasoning, a plate of peppermint hot chocolate cookies with mostly crumbs left on it, and Katie’s empty hot cocoa mug sitting next to the glasses that they’d used for milk with their cookies earlier. It had been a night full of Christmas cheer, junk food and sugar, and Imogen was glad it had been such a success.
Katie yawned widely again, and Imogen chuckled. “I think it’s time for bed, sweetheart,” she said, sitting up to start gathering the dishes and take them back into the kitchen. She thought she might leave the cleanup for the morning; she was tired too.
“Mommm.” Katie flopped back against the cushions. “It’s not even that late.”
“Isn’t it?” Imogen glanced at the cuckoo clock that hung on the wall just to the right of the television, a family heirloom that she’d managed to hang onto even after everything had fallen apart in her love life, not long after Katie had been born. “It’s after ten, and you have school tomorrow. Just a little longer, and you’ll be out for Christmas break,” she added. “Then we can stay up later, okay?”
Katie sighed dramatically, the way only a seven-year-old could. “Fiiine,” she mumbled, yawning again. “But can we watchThe Grinchtomorrow? And have more of those cookies and milk?”
“You’re going to turn into Santa yourself.” Imogen reached out, ruffling her daughter’s hair. “But we’ll see, alright? She gathered up the empty mugs and dishes, carrying them to the kitchen and setting it all in the sink, after taking the few remaining cookies and slipping them into the snowman cookie jar sitting on her counter. She’d had to squeeze in baking them between the long holiday hours at the chocolate shop and dropping off the hot cocoa powder deliveries to Lincoln at the rink, but she was glad she’d made time for it. Nights like these with her daughter were ones she’d remember long after Katie had grown up. She hoped she’d have them with her for years to come, even after Katie was a teenager and then an adult.
She’d always been close with her daughter, and she was grateful for it. Katie liked spending time with her mom, and didn’t try to shrug her off the way other kids did sometimes.Imogen hoped that would continue even as she got older, and she tried to make sure that she did everything she could to make sure that they stayed close.
“Run upstairs and get ready for bed,” Imogen called out, poking her head around the edge of the kitchen door to see if Katie was still on the couch. “I’ll be up in a minute to tuck you in.”
Katie reluctantly peeled herself off of the couch, stretching with another yawn as she came into the kitchen where Imogen was still stacking dishes. “Tonight was great, Mom. Thanks for doing all of this.” She wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist in a tight hug, before padding off toward the stairs, her festive fluffy snowflake socks sliding against the hardwood.
Imogen watched her go, feeling her heart warm with a contented happiness that she always felt when she was at home with her daughter like this. It made it all worth it—all the long days at the shop, the running back and forth to make sure that she was getting to all the necessary parental events and showing up for recitals and play dates, the never-ending schedules that were two jobs’ worth of hours, sometimes. There was nowhere she’d rather be, and she felt that they had everything they needed. She and Katie had made their own perfect, cozy little life.
She followed Katie up the stairs, the old wood creaking under her feet. She loved the old home she’d purchased for them years ago, wanting a fresh start after her husband had left. It was never hard to sell a home in Fir Tree Grove, where there were always more people wanting to buy than there were those willing to move out, and she’d easily offloaded the pretty ranch house that she’d had with her husband. Fortunately, not long after, the quaint cottage of her dreams had come on the market, and she’d settled down there with her new baby, making her own home just the way she wanted it.
She made her way down the hall to Katie’s room, the path dimly lit by the nightlight that made it easy in case Katie needed to get up in the middle of the night, swapped out for a green light instead of the usual clear for the holiday season. Katie’s door was still ajar, and Imogen found her already tucked in bed, wearing the Christmas bow pajamas that they’d picked out together a month ago. She was reading a children’s book about unicorns, propped up against the mountain of pillows on her princess-decorated bed, and Imogen came to sit down next to her, brushing the tulle canopy of the bed aside.
